


A Second Deck of Many (Sexier) Things

by sparxwrites



Series: Critical Role Drabble Collections [3]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alley Sex, Belly Kink, Biting, Blood Drinking, Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Dildos, Double Penetration, Dragons, Eggpreg, Exhibitionism, F/F, F/M, Fantasizing, First Time, Fisting, Hair Kink, Hair-pulling, Healing, Light Dom/sub, Light Masochism, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Other, Oviposition, Pegging, Pinching, Polyamory, Polymachina, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sex Pollen, Sex Toys, Sibling Incest, Size Difference, Size Kink, Strap-Ons, Tenderness, Tentacles, Threesome - F/F/M, Twincest, Vampire Sex, Voyeurism, Werewolf Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:01:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 11,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22743709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparxwrites/pseuds/sparxwrites
Summary: A place to put my many, smutty, campaign-agnostic Critical Role drabbles that are too short to deserve their own fics.1.Mollymauk has a run in with some tentacles.2.Beau bites off more than she can chew.3.Jester introduces Caduceus to the wonderful world of sex toys.4.Vampire!Jester gets hungry in bed with werewolf!Beau.5.Grog and Vex are having some fun; Keyleth joins in.6.Percy gets some eggs laid in him.7.Jester tries out a new fantasy.8.Gratuitous Beau/Pike.9.Gratuitous Percy/Grog with Scanlan watching.10.Cassandra exploring her body.11.Percy, the twins, two dicks.12.Scanlan fists Vax.13.Vax and unconventional worship.14.Percy gets pegged by his wife.15.Vax gets some loving from all of VM.16.Vex and Keyleth's first time.17.Beau, Yasha, sex pollen.18.Caduceus makes an offering to the Wildmother.19.Essek likes getting his hair pulled.20.Beau and Jester steal a quick moment down an alley.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Pike Trickfoot, Beauregard Lionett/Yasha, Caduceus Clay/Jester Lavorre, Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast, Grog Strongjaw/Vex'ahlia/Keyleth, Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett, Keyleth/Vax'ildan (Critical Role), POLYMACHINA - Relationship, Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III/Vax'ildan/Vex'ahlia, Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III/Vex'ahlia, Scanlan Shorthalt/Grog Strongjaw/Percival "Percy" de Rolo, Scanlan Shorthalt/Vax'ildan, The Raven Queen/Vax'ildan (Critical Role)
Series: Critical Role Drabble Collections [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1640677
Comments: 104
Kudos: 469





	1. Tentacles

**Author's Note:**

> as always- these are all from @sparxwrites on tumblr, some from several months back. do come follow me over there if you want the best and most up-to-date (and horniest) content!

“I _told_ you it was a _really stupid idea_ to go wandering around in the dark when there were _tentacle monsters on the loose_!” was the first thing Jester said, when Mollymauk woke her (and everyone else) up after stumbling back into camp in the early hours of the morning. “I told you! Everyone knows, you don’t go wandering around when there’s tentacle monsters around _unless_ you _want_ them to put their tentacles in you! And you went out anyways, and the tentacle monsters obviously _did_ put their tentacles in you, and now!! Now you are full of eggs, and it is entirely your fault, and I am going to say _I told you so_.”

Caleb squinted at her. “… _Does_ everybody know this?” he asked, quietly. “I have never heard of this. This does not seem like a thing everyone would know.”

“If you don’t know, you _obviously_ need to read more smut,” Jester informed him, a little haughtily, before going back to prodding at Molly’s belly. It was a little uncomfortable, and she only stopped when he caught her wrist and tugged her hand away in warning. “And _you_ ,” she said, “you are _very_ stupid, because I can’t heal you, because _you’re not hurt_. You just have lots of eggs inside you that need to be _outside_ you.”

Molly released her wrist, and waved a vague hand at her, before going back to rubbing at his poor, over-strained belly, which was far too full of hundreds of small, jelly-ish eggs and protruding out from under his shirt quite spectacularly. “Look,” he said, and at least had the good grace to look sheepish about the whole mess, “look, I may have made a _slight_ mistake, but-”

“Did you, though?” asked Beau, skeptically. “ _Did you_ make a mistake, though, because, I’m not gonna lie, this seems _entirely_ in-character for you, honestly. Like, ‘oh no, I got caught by a tentacle monster, it’s gonna tentacle me, how horrible’, that sorta shit.”

When Molly just winked at her, she pretended to vomit, and turned away with a groan. “Yeah, okay, fuck you, that’s _your_ problem then. I’m not fucking helping you with the aftermath of your fuckin’ _horniness_.” 

Jester just sighed. “Mollymauk,” she said, in as close to a serious tone as she could manage, patting his belly - it was a more gentle touch than the prodding, at least, and she seemed fascinated by the way it moved under her hand, the jelly-like consistency of the eggs and the sheer _size_ of it making it bounce and sway with every touch. “I know I am the best cleric ever in the entire world, _but_ , there is nothing I can do for this, okay? You are just going to have to wait for the eggs to come out on their own, and hope that happens soon, because you are _not_ going to be able to fight like this. You’re huge!”

Molly winced, looking down at his belly and framing it with a hand on either side. She wasn’t wrong - the large purple swell of it had pushed his shirt up to his chest, and the waistband of his pants down low on his hips, and it jutted out far enough he couldn’t see anything for a good foot or two in front of his feet. 

“Fuck,” he said, succinctly, exhaling as steadily as he could with what felt like a million squishy eggs crushed up against his lungs. He settled a hand under his belly, trying to support the weight of it a little, and ease the ache already building in his spine from the extra mass of it and how it pulled him off balance. “That’s… okay, that’s. Well. Okay. Thanks for taking a look, I guess, Jester. _Fuck_.”

A small part of him, though, remembered how good the eggs had felt going _in -_ and couldn’t _wait_ to see just how good they’d feel coming _out_.

“On the bright side,” added Jester, with a dazzling grin that showed off far too much of her oversized canines, “Fjord is no longer the only one in our little group with something weird inside his belly! Which is nice.”

Caleb coughed, trying and failing to keep his face from flushing pink as he watched Molly’s hands roaming across the stretched-taut skin of his egg-bloated stomach. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but the sight was _fascinating_ , and he couldn’t seem to pull his eyes away from it. “I, ah, would not mention that to Fjord, if I were you,” he said, weakly, wincing when Molly looked up, caught him staring, and grinned wide and dangerous with far too many teeth and a _salacious_ curl of his tongue. “I do not think he would find that as comforting as you are imagining.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was "I dont have a specific character request but oviposition would be appreciated". So naturally it was Molly, because who else is going to make poor choices involving friendly tentacles...?
> 
> Also, can we please appreciate my tags on the original post for a second: #anyways this is just sth dumb tho bc i love the idea of molly being like "whelp guys my fuckboy ways have finally had consequences" #and jester just stood there like. hitting him w a rolled-up newspaper going "you! are! not! in! a! hentai! anime! behave yourself!"


	2. Ambitious

“Ow! Ah, shit- stop, gimme a moment–”

Jester paused, her arms and thighs trembling with the effort of holding the awkward position. Bent over Beau and propped up on her hands, she’d barely managed to get the tip of the (admittedly, _monstrously_ large) strap-on she was wearing into Beau before her girlfriend had called a pause.

“Are you okay?” she asked, concern bleeding into the furrow of her brow. For a moment, she debated leaning down to kiss Beau – her lips, the tip of her nose, the sweat-soaked point where hairline met forehead – and then decided against it. It wouldn’t do to accidentally nudge the dildo, not when Beau seemed to be… struggling with it. “If you don’t want to, we can–”

“No, it’s fine,” lied Beau through her teeth, exhaling through her nose and trying to relax. Though they’d taken plenty of time to open her up, used plenty of lube on the strap-on, she wasn’t a size queen in the same way Jester was. “Just needed a minute to adjust, you can– move, go on–”

Jester grinned, nudged her hips forward a half-inch – and then froze again when Beau yelped, the stretch of it sharp and on the wrong side of painful.

“ _Okaaaay_ ,” she said, drawing the word out slowly as she worked her hips backwards, tugging the dildo out of Beau little by little. “This is _clearly_ not fun for you, so we’re going to stop and do something else, okay?” She tried not to wince at the small, displeased sounds Beau made with every motion – the thing had to come out _somehow_ , but that didn’t mean she enjoyed causing her girlfriend discomfort.

Beau sighed gratefully when the thing finally slipped free, reaching a hand down to rub absently at her poor vulva as Jester sat back on her heels. “I could’ve handled it,” she grouched, glad the thing was out but also sulking at the implied failure to rise to the challenge of it. “It’d have been _fine_.”

“Nuh-uh!” sing-songed Jester, already fumbling with the straps and catches to shimmy out of the strap-on harness, freeing the monster dildo to flop onto the sheets. “It would _not_ have been fine, because you weren’t enjoying yourself, and that’s stupid, so! We’re doing something else.” She patted her thighs decisively, kneeling between Beau’s thighs and eyeing her girlfriend stretched out before her with evident, gleeful desire. “What do _you_ want to do, _Beau_?”

For a second, Beau lay there, considering. At some point her gentle rubbing at the aching between her thighs had turned into idly circling her clit, luxuriating in the easy pleasure it sent singing through her. Luxuriating, also, in having Jester’s hungry eyes on her.

“…Could _you_ ride that thing?” she asked, eventually, nudging the discarded dildo with her toe.

Jester nodded enthusiastically, eyes lighting up. “It’d be a challenge, but I’m _preeetty_ sure I could do it!” She bounced enthusiastically on her knees, making the mattress rock. “You know me. I _stretch_ ,” she added, in a conspiratorial whisper.

That shocked a laugh out of Beau, even as she shuffled herself up against the headboard, hand leaving her clit to stack the pillows a little higher and more comfortably behind her. “You sure do, Jes’,” she agreed, grinning, hand sliding back between her legs as she eyed her girlfriend from this new vantage point.

Beau was pretty sure she was never going to get over how goddamn _gorgeous_ Jester was – her full lips, the scattered freckles across her arms and chest, the heavy droop of her breasts, the dark blue curls of hair between her legs that crept up, ever so slightly, onto her soft stomach. No matter how many times she saw Jester like this, naked and grinning and squirming with arousal, it still managed to take her breath away.

“I wanna see you ride it,” she breathed, eyes dragging up hungrily from Jester’s cunt, to her breasts, to her bright, wide eyes. “Wanna see what you look like with that all inside you, touching yourself. You wanna try that?”

Jester grinned, blue lips peeling back to reveal sharp teeth in a wicked, _dangerous_ smile. “Oh, _Beau_ ,” she said, hefting the dildo with one hand and reaching for the discarded bottle of lube with the other. “I’m not just going to _try_ …”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was "Beauregard + biting off more than she can chew". Clearly not, however, more than _Jester_ can chew :3c


	3. First

“So!” says Jester, primly, pulling item after item out of a side-pouch on her pretty-pink backpack. “These are all the things I _haaave_ , let me know if you think you’d _like_ any of them, and if not then we can always-”

Caduceus tunes her out, fascinated by the various implements being laid out in front of him. Some of them, he recognises, in the vaguest sense possible - two items are carved into a vague likeness of a phallus, and he can make a good guess of what you’re supposed to do with those. He might not be _personally_ experienced, but he’s not naive. There’s plenty of opportunities to learn about the birds and the bees when you grow up talking to them.

Other things, though, he can only guess at. There’s an ovoid shape that branches off into a flared base, a string of beads, and what looks to be a small, metal pebble - when he reaches out to touch it, curiously, it buzzes to life under the heat of his furred fingers.

He flinches back, and the device goes silent, and Jester laughs. “Oh!” she says, slyly, pausing in her unpacking. “That one’s _really_ fun, you touch it, and it buzzes, and then you-”

She makes an unmistakable gesture, an unmistakable expression, and Caduceus flushes as pink as his hair under the fine, grey fur that covers his face.

“Oh,” he echoes, eyeing the small, vibrating pebble. “Yeah, I’ve never seen anything like that before. Huh.” He hesitates, still watching the toy, thinking. “Y’know what?” he says, eventually, “This all looks really interesting, but I think I’d wanna keep it simple, y’know? Just for the first time. Keep it traditional.” He smiles, slow and broad - still flushed beneath his fur, but less from embarrassment now and more from the pictures slowly sketching themselves in the forefront of his brain, angular grey and pink on soft blue.

He _likes_ the look of those pictures.

Jester sets the metal pebble down, smiling back, though her expression is far more sly. “ _Weeeeell_ ,” she says, heaving a sigh, as if the idea is some great hardship on her part. The effect is entirely ruined by the way her eyes have dropped to a point below Caduceus’ navel, focused on the fork of those loose trousers of his as she chews at her lip. “I’m a _leetle_ bit offended you don’t like any of my _really lovely_ toys, but you’re pretty cool, and I like you, so! I think we can _definitely_ manage traditional.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was "I have an image in my head of Jester finding out that Caduceus is a virgin, with no inherent desire to stay like that, and then she starts immediately and loudly planning out what the best possible first time for him could be."


	4. Bite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING for vampire-related bloodplay.

“You’re not gonna, like… eat me, or anything?” asked Beau, hesitantly, the yellow of her eyes glowing luminous in the candlelit room. “And I’m not gonna poison you?”

Jester wrinkled her nose in response, crimson lips curling up to reveal sweet, pearly-white fangs already semi-extended out her gums. “I’m not going to _eat_ you!” she objected, pressing herself closer to the lithe woman beneath her, nuzzling at Beau collarbone, the cold fingers of one jewel-encrusted hand lingering over the swell of Beau’s nude breast. “That’s a _nasty_ rumour, made up by _smelly_ werew-”

She caught herself, eyes wide, but Beau just laughed, the noise rumbling in her chest like the beginning of a growl. 

“I _don’t_ eat people,” she corrected herself, pinching Beau’s nipple just firmly enough to make the other woman gasp, squirm beneath her, “I just… take a _leetle_ sip, you know? I have _very_ good self-control. And I _hope_ you don’t poison me. That would be bad. But you probably won’t! It’s probably fine.”

Beau sighed, the noise rumbling in her chest again - _every_ noise she made seemed to rumble in her chest, and Jester sighed happily at the vibrations, nosing a little more insistently at the side Beau’s throat. She smelled _good_ , blood-wet and warm with an odd undercurrent of unfamiliar spice, like a good dry wine. Maybe it was a werewolf thing. Maybe it was a _Beau_ thing. Either way, Jester couldn’t _wait_ to try it.

“Fine,” said Beau, in that entirely ungracious way she had, even when she was agreeing to something she wanted to. “You can chew on my neck if you want, or whatever.” She tilted her head to one side, lifting her chin to expose the warm, brown line of her throat.

Jester nearly _drooled_ with enthusiasm, fangs sliding the rest of the way out, wet with venom. “Oh Beau, oh _Beau_ , you’re the _best_ ,” she breathed, pressing her face against skin again, teasing herself with the closeness of the blood, the heady richness. “This is going to be _so good_ , I promise.”

And with that, she set her lips to her lover’s skin, and let her fangs prick just _barely_ deep enough to draw blood.

She was _moaning_ with it in seconds, one hand braced on the pillow by Beau’s head to support herself even as she near _writhed_ from the bright, hot pleasure the taste of blood brought her. It was almost nothing, barely a small mouthful when she pulled away, but it was like someone had lit a _fire_ within her, deep within the pit of her belly.

Beau was not faring any better. Though she’d stiffened, initially, at the first scratch of fang against skin, battling with her better instincts that urged a Change, _now_ , the venom had done its work. Her eyes were half-lidded, hand lax where it rested on Jester’s hips, and her lips were parted in slack pleasure at the gentle suckling on her neck. 

“Oh,” she managed, when Jester pulled away, “oh, _fuck_ , that’s good. Shit. You weren’t kidding.” Her eyes locked to Jester’s lips, even more crimson with the bright shine of Beau’s blood wet across them. “…You gonna go down on me like that?”

“In a minute,” promised Jester, with a purr, kissing the mark on the side of Beau’s neck before sliding a little ways down her lover’s body - stopping short of her cunt, to a frustrated groan from Beau. “But just _think_ …” She licked her lips, eyelids fluttering as the tartness of the blood exploded across her tongue. “If me feeding from your neck feels _really_ good, how nice would it be if I fed from _here_?”

Her mouth, pressing bloody kisses across Beau’s ribs, found one nipple, latching on and sucking bloodlessly. 

Beau _moaned_ , loud and shameless and entirely involuntary, hips arching into the air until Jester slid a thick, soft thigh between her two muscled ones, to give her something to grind against. “ _Fuck_ ,” she swore, giddy with the thought of it, with the throbbing pain at her throat and the bright pleasure at her chest and the heady venom clouding her thoughts with a slow, burning _want_. “Fuck, Jester, _please_ \- bite me again, _bite me_ -”

When Jester finally obliged, sinking fangs into the tender flesh of her lover’s breast to suckle at both blood and nipple, Beau came - with a jerk of her hips against Jester’s thigh, smearing a slick line against pale, cold flesh, and a howl worthy of the wolf she was

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a Halloween prompt! The prompt was "Spooky prompt: Maybe something with vampires? Maybe a female vampire trying to ease her nervous f lover into allowing blood play? Or something tender/romantic with lesbian monster lovers? I hardly ever see anything with f/f!"


	5. Touch

“Y’can touch, if you want,” said Grog, encouragingly, when he noticed the open-mouthed way Keyleth is staring at the point where they were joined, Vex’s legs spread wide open and held there by his large hands. “Like, I ain’t gonna stop you, if you wanna join in a li’l bit.” He grinned widely, uncharacteristically friendly and gentle, as though coaxing a nervous woodland creature. “You wanna?”

Keyleth squeaked, a faint pink blush across the bridge of her nose and the high, sharp angles of her cheekbones. “Um- oh! Oh, gosh, um, okay,” she managed, bright-eyed despite her embarrassment. Her fingers were curling into fists and opening again where her hands rested on her thighs, and her gaze was still focused intently on the sight of Vex stretched wet and obscenely wide around the girth of Grog’s cock. “Do I just- um-?”

“Just get on in there,” rumbled Grog, slowing his thrusts to a crawl and ignoring Vex’s rather vocal complaints on the matter. “Have a li’l touch an’ stuff. She’s pretty noisy, she’ll let you know if she’s likin’ it.”

“Oh, _absolutely_ , darling,” breathed Vex. Frustrated with the lack of friction, Grog having practically stopped moving at this point, her hips were twitching, grinding down against the cock inside her in an attempt to get something, _anything_ , a little of the sensation she so craved. “And, please- please do, because Grog here is being a _dreadful_ tease, and I’d rather- _oh_ -”

She broke off, abruptly, as one of Keyleth’s long, careful fingers began lightly tracing around the place she and Grog were joined, sliding easily along the slick skin. The tickle of it was still enough to make her squirm, though, shivering where she was laid back against Grog’s chest. “Mmm, yes, that- I, I don’t mean to be demanding, darling, but my clit-”

When the pad of Keyleth’s thumb brushed over it, tentative but deliciously calloused, she groaned encouragingly. “Yes! Yes, there, yes… Mmm…”

For a long moment, they stayed like that - Vex held against Grog’s chest, her legs held wide and his cock sunk deep inside her, Keyleth exploring slow and careful, but with increasing boldness and confidence. And then-

“Oh-!” cried out Vex, eyes widening, at the same moment Grog rumbled shock low in his chest. “Oh, oh gods-” Keyleth’s head had disappeared between her thighs, slim fingers and strong hands resting against the softness of her inner legs to hold them open as Keyleth began to lap at Vex’s clit and the root of Grog’s cock. Her tongue was warm and wet, and just a little rough, a perfect tease to satisfy the ache in Vex’s core and stoke the fire building steadily inside her.

Grog laughed, tapering off into a groan when Keyleth pressed a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss against the length of him that he hadn’t managed to fit inside Vex. “Aww, yeah,” he rumbled, starting to move again, ever so slowly so as not to dislodge Keyleth - just enough to make Vex gasp and shudder as the head of his cock dragged over her g-spot, her thighs shaking beneath his and Keyleth’s grip. “Yeah, jus’ like that, _fuck_.”

Trusting Keyleth to keep Vex’s legs spread, Grog released her thighs, sliding thick fingers up her legs and the softness of her stomach up to her chest. Her tits were barely a palmful, given the size of his hands, but he groped at them anyways, digging fingers in hard enough it’d bruise in the morning, pinching at her nipples until she squealed, sucking soft marks into the side of her neck and tonguing over her pulse.

Vex _keened_ , arching up into the faint pinch of Grog’s fingers around her nipples, and the inexpert, but highly enthusiastic, laving of Keyleth’s tongue over her labia and clit. “Oh, oh yes- yes, that’s it-” she whined, desperately. Her thighs were shaking, now, eyes almost rolled back into her head - between the stimulation to her clit and Grog’s steady, inexorable pushing inside her, she was overwhelmed, on the edge, close, so _close_ -

When she came, it was with a near-scream. Her thighs pressed together hard enough that, despite Keyleth’s grip, she ended up trapping the half-elf’s head between them as she clenched down around Grog’s cock and squirted around him, her slick and come dripping down over his cock and balls, and coating Keyleth’s mouth and chin.

They fucked her through it, the two of them, Keyleth gasping a little like she was dying as she meticulously licked the two of them clean. Her own hand had dipped between her legs, moving frantically - and, when Vex finally stopped shaking and sobbing, finally came back to the real world, they were both still going. It didn’t look like they were planning on stopping any time soon.

Already beginning to feel a familiar curl of heat low in the pit of her stomach, Vex did the only thing she could - lay back against Grog’s chest, loose and limp, and decide she would _absolutely_ enjoy the ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was "Threesome where Grog is fucking Vex, and he's laying on his back with Vex laying on her back on top of him with Keyleth watching them, watching Grog hold Vex's legs open so Keyleth can see Grog get Vex off with his fingers and his cock and watch him move inside her, see Grog cup Vex's breasts and play with Vex's nipples and pull her hair like, "isn't she pretty, Keyleth?" and Keyleth occasionally joins in too to touch Vex and get her off with him. They get her off too."


	6. Negotiations

“The negotiations,” says Percy, huffing and puffing with just the effort of staying upright, “were… tense.”

“ _Tense_ ,” says Scanlan, in the face of Vox Machina’s stunned silence. He prods Percy’s belly, the pale curve of skin where it’s swollen out from under his shirt, heavy and taut. It’s big enough his coat won’t close around it, big enough to have pushed his well-fitted shirt halfway up his torso, jutting out proudly from his otherwise-lean torso and impossible to ignore. “Is _that_ what they’re calling this nowadays?”

The touch makes the eggs inside him shift, the soft shells of them clacking dully together, and Percy grunts. “Nngh. Well. _Look_. We’re not going to be eaten, let’s not get too semantic about this.” It’s a poor rebuttal, especially when he’s got an arm under his own stomach to support the weight of it, of the cargo within.

Keyleth clears her throat, anxiously, a little flushed. “And… what _is_ ‘this’, Percy?”

Percy swallows, licks his lips, painfully aware of the eyes on him. Painfully aware that the only thing stopping them all from seeing his cock, straining hard and leaking against the front of his trousers, is his own forearm. His free hand, he realises, is stroking the side of his own enormous, egg-stuffed gut, unconscious and _unhelpfully_ arousing. “She agreed not to eat us. I agreed to… help her. Temporarily. She needed some, ah. Eggs. Looking after. For a little bit.”

“Are you alright, darling?” asks Vex, biting her lip. “That seems… like a rather _intense_ sort of compromise. I’m sure we could have fought her, if you…”

They probably couldn’t have, and nor would Percy have wanted them to, but it’s a sweet sentiment nonetheless.

“Oh, it’s fine,” says Percy, with a strained sort of smile. He inhales deeply, exhales again, struggling under the weight of his new belly, the enormous swollenness and fullness of it as it pushes through the gap between shirt and trousers. The eggs shift again, and the noise he makes this time is closer to a groan than a grunt. His painfully hard cock twitches behind tightly-laced breeches, soaking a wet spot into the fabric. “It’s- not a problem, really. Much easier this way.”

It’s really, _really_ not a problem - other than the fact he’s going to be masturbating until he’s coming dry to this for _months._ To the slick, unbearable push of the eggs spreading him wide and settling inside him, his body clutching greedily at each one, pulling it inside to bloat him still further. To the weight of them, the stretch, the _strain_ of them stuffing his gut full and swelling it out before him, heaving taut and heavy with every panting breath. To the - his unsteady breathing hitches, throat working unconsciously around a sudden excess of saliva - utter ecstasy that _laying_ them is going to be, working himself wide enough with fingers and fist to push them out of his sore, clenching hole…

His breathing stutters, again, and he comes in his pants with the slightest hitch of his hips, the friction of his cockhead rubbed against the heavy bloat of his stomach enough to shock the orgasm out of him. 

The others miss it, the twitch, the sudden pink of Percy’s cheeks. They’ve settled to fussing, joking about their close shave with one another, still casting the occasional glance back to Percy’s full, gravid form. But Vax- Vax looks at him oddly, at the the bulging curve of his belly as he cradles it in his hands. At the just-visible stain of creamy jizz seeping through the fabric as his cock twitches and spurts.

“Oh,” says Vax, something like a smirk curling at the corner of his lips, “I’m _sure_ it’s fine, Freddie. I’m sure it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was "Consider: Percy persuading a dragon not to attack them by agreeing to act as an egg incubator. He comes waddling back to the group like, "Negotiations were tense, but we managed to come to an agreement."".
> 
> Which isn't even really a prompt, tbh. I'm just _very_ easy to coax into writing eggfic.


	7. Solo

Her hands find her breasts, and in her mind there’s someone else’s fingers on her nipples, tugging, teasing– they’re human, this time, honey-warm brown skin and work-calloused at the tips, confident and just a little rough. She bites her lip to keep from gasping, tries to muffle the heavy beat of her breathing as she pinches deep blue skin between thumb and forefinger, just the right amount of pressure to make her toes curl and her cunt throb. There are others in the room, after all, her friends sleeping mere meters from her. It wouldn’t do to wake them up.

Flustered, trembling, she runs hands down the soft curves of her stomach, settles them between her thighs in the familiar position. Only, in the privacy of her fantasy, the two fingers pushed inside aren’t a cock, but someone else’s fingers. Her finger, where it works over her clit in deep, frantic circles, is not a finger at all, but a tongue.

The woman between her legs looks up at her, eyes blue and brown topknot messy from Jester’s fingers wound into her hair, and smirks. Her lips are pressure-pink, shiny with Jester’s arousal, curled up at the corners with a smug, self-confident satisfaction. Her free hand digs into Jester’s thigh, pushes it up a little, spreads her wider so the woman can push her face back against Jester’s cunt and and tongue hungrily at her clit, the fingers inside Jester crooked _just so_.

She’s so wet she can hardly get enough friction – so turned on that she doesn’t need it.

Her orgasm, when it comes, crests over her like a tidal wave– impossible to deny, a force of nature. When the tides recede, leave her shaking in her bedroll and with a hand pressed over her own mouth to stifle her whimpering, they also leave behind the feeling that nothing will ever be quite the same again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was "Jester, solo, trying out a new fantasy?".


	8. Types

Gnomes aren’t usually Beau’s type – she likes people taller than her, _bigger_ than her, strong and heavy enough to knock her on her ass and _keep_ her there – but god _damn_ is she glad she took a chance on this one.

Pike Trickfoot, she’d said her name was, when she introduced herself with a handshake and a wink. Beau had grinned back, been impressed with how firm the handshake was, and largely ignored the flirting. But a few hours later, a few drinks later, a few more blatant flirtations later, Pike had invited her up to her room, and Beau had thought– what the hell. Why not.

Now, with Pike pinning her easily to the bed with one hand on her stomach, Beau’s glad she hadn’t ignored it entirely. She arches her spine, useless with the unyielding hand pinning her down, panting, legs spread and hair a mess and the sheets between her legs damp with sweat and slick and Pike’s saliva. The gnome’s got four fingers in her, and though the stretch is barely more than two of her own, it’s the _knowing_ of the thing that’s got her leaking like a faucet.

“You want my fist?” asks Pike, maddeningly composed despite the hair falling in her eyes and the sheen of sweat across her brow and shoulders. Her thumb finds Beau’s clit, flicks over it, and Beau _shouts_ through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, yeah, _fuck_ – _please_ –” Ordinarily she’d be embarrased at begging so easy, but she thinks, given the circumstances, she can be excused. Her core _throbs_ , her cunt tightens around Pike’s fingers in a greedy clench, and she _whines_ in a way she hasn’t since she was a teenager first learning how to make herself come.

Pike grins, blows the hair out of her eyes. “Okay then,” she says, rubs a quick circle round Beau’s clit once more just to feel the human’s thighs shudder around her waist. “Here we go.” She pulls her fingers out a little, tucks her thumb in, makes a wedge of her hand that she slowly, carefully, _inexorably_ pushes into Beau’s wet, clenching cunt.

After that, Beau doesn’t have to worry about begging any more. She doesn’t have the words to, even if she’d been able to stop her ever-louder moans as Pike rocks her fist deeper, _deeper_. She comes like that, Pike’s knuckles rubbing over her g-spot with every slight thrust, Pike’s lips closed over her clit – yelling loud enough she’s sure the whole inn must hear as her spine arches, thighs tighten, cunt clamps down on the small fist inside her in waves of rolling, clenching pleasure.

When it finally fades, she’s left panting on the bed, sprawled sated and relaxed and sweat-sheened. Pike’s fist slipping free makes her twitch, groan, oversensitive as it pulls out of her slick cunt.

Pike shuffles up the bed to kneel over her, feeds fingers wet with her own arousal into her mouth one by one, and she licks them clean with an exhausted, greedy eagerness. And when Pike straddles her face, sets her pussy to Beau’s lips, Beau fastens hands around her thighs and licks into _her_ with just as much enthusiasm – to the gnome’s obvious delight.

If she’s lucky, she thinks – tongue sunk deep into Pike’s cunt as the gnome pants above her, riding Beau’s face with demanding, desperate rolls of her hips – by the time Pike comes she might be recovered enough to go for round two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was "Cross campaign Pike/Beau? Because Pike would absolutely wreck Beau and Beau would love it." I gotta say, anon has their third eye _wide fucking open_.


	9. Praise

“Oh, that’s very nice,” says Scanlan, mildly, as though he weren’t _very_ obviously turned on by the sight of Percy, on his elbows and knees, gasping and panting for breath as Grog slowly, slowly pushes into him. “That’s _very_ nice. Who’d have thought _Percival_ of all people would be so _good_ at this?”

“Tight,” grunts Grog, nudging his hips forward another inch, and Scanlan laughs.

“Yeah,” he says, reaching down to pet at Percy’s hair, tug on it until Percy’s face tilts up towards him. There’s a hazy look in those pale blue eyes that makes Scanlan’s gut twist in delightful ways, though there’s still a flicker of self-awareness in them that he needs to do something about. “Yeah, I bet he is.”

Percy grunts, thighs shaking, arms trembling badly enough it looks likely he’s going to end up face-down ass-up and limp by the time Grog gets his entire cock in. “I- _am_ still here, you know,” he manages irritably, which would be more convincing if he weren’t already panting through his nose to try and keep from losing his goddamn _mind_ with the weight and stretch of the cock inside him.

“If you’re still talking, then Grog’s evidently not doing his job well enough,” replies Scanlan smartly, delighted by the way Percy’s eyes widen. “Grog? He’s obviously _fine_ , so you can go faster. Don’t hold back, he’s a big boy, apparently, he can take it.”

Percy’s lips part to say something - but Scanlan pushes three fingers between them, pinning his tongue to the floor of his mouth. And then Grog starts pushing in faster, inexorable, and suddenly Percy loses the ability to speak even _without_ fingers in his mouth.

It’s nice to watch the last flickers of too-fast thought fade from Percy’s eyes, as Grog slides fully inside him to the root. Percy _had_ asked for something to take him out of his own head, after all - and between fingers to suck on and drool around, a goliath cock balls-deep in his ass, and the way his own cock is hard and leaking, Scanlan suspects they’re doing a pretty good job of fulfilling that request.

“Nothing clever to say now?” teases Scanlan, slipping his spit-slick fingers out from Percy’s lips as the human manages a low, senseless groan. His arms have entirely given out now, and his legs don’t look far behind, leaving him crumpled with his face and shoulders against the ground and essentially held up by Grog’s cock. “That’s good, that’s good. It’s a good look on you, you know, all quiet and full of cock like this. _Very_ good look.” 

He pets Percy’s stomach, rubbing a small hand firmly over the line of Grog’s cock bulging huge and visible even through the slight softness of the human’s belly, and relishes the way both Grog and Percy _groan_ at the feeling.

“Oh, _shit._ ” Grog’s eyelids flutter, and he tugs out an inch only to rock back in, the expression on his face almost _reverent_. “Oh, shit, do that again, that’s- aww, _fuck_ , that’s real nice, he feels _real_ good.”

“Do feel free to start fucking him, whenever you feel like it. That _is_ what he asked for, after all, and it’d be rude to deprive him when he’s been so _good,_ taking all of your cock like that,” says Scanlan, smug and _very_ self-satisfied, relishing the way Grog’s hips twitch when he presses his hand down over the head of the goliath’s cock, the way the movement makes Percy gurgle out a low, shocked noise of pleasure. “And as for you _you_ , Percival… you just lay there and enjoy yourself, hmm? There’s a good man. I’ll make sure you get _exactly_ what you need…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was "For your consideration: Percy being taken by Grog whilst Scanlan touches him and praises him".


	10. Rebuilding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING for mentions of past rape.

It take a while.

In all honesty, it takes a while for her to even undress without being wracked by tremors, without having to beat back a tide of howling memories. She works on that first, bringing her iron will to bear until leaving the mirror in her bathroom uncovered as she bathes no longer makes her shake and hyperventilate.

Working up to touching herself is… worse.

For a long time, she’s not sure she actually _wants_ to even try, not sure whether it’s worth it. Just considering it makes her vomit, more than once, and it seems so _stupid_ , trying to work her way through something so awful, when she’s not actually sure she even _wants_ to be able to masturbate. But- every time she thinks about giving up, it feels like she’s letting the Briarwoods win. Like she’s _given_ them something, is making no attempt to get it back. And that? That makes her blood boil.

So, as with the nakedness, she works up to it. She looks at herself in the mirror, forcing herself to make peace with her reflection, her body, _hers_ ; then takes slow care when washing herself, rather than trying to get it over with as fast as possible; then touches herself clinically, carefully, just… exploring, and getting used to the shape of her body under her own hands. It’s strange, getting used to a woman’s shape when the last time she felt comfortable in her own skin was as a child, but, to her surprise, it’s not _bad_. Past the initial, crawling discomfort, the reclamation of it makes her feel _powerful_.

And so it is that, well over two years after the battle for Whitestone, Cassandra de Rolo settles herself into a hot, lavender oil-scented bath, and slides a hand between her legs.

For a long several heartbeats, she just leaves it there, fingers settling into place against her folds, palm resting on her mons. She sinks deeper into the water, lets it rise up to her nose, and sighs contentedly as the water warms through her skin into the muscle and bone beneath. It’s hard to stay tense and stressed in a pleasant-smelling bath, she’s learned, and she intends to absolutely use that to her advantage.

She knows how this all works, theoretically, is aware of her own anatomy and how it functions, but theory is an entirely different thing to practice. No one has ever touched her with her pleasure in mind, and so her first movements are hesitant, unpolished. She has no interest in penetrating herself - so her touches are instead careful circles and rubbing, letting her fingers map out the territory between her legs, easing the fear and relaxing the tension that’s returned to her legs and stomach, before settling into a slow, steady rhythm around her clit.

Several times, she has to stop, pause and catch her breath and steady the roiling anxiety that threatens to overflow. The first swell of pleasure that comes five minutes into her idle touching, especially, sends a spark of warmth in her thighs and gut, makes her twitch and gasp, and freeze. She breathes through it, though, calms herself, and tries again, three fingers moving in slow circles that don’t bring sparks of pleasure so much as a slow, coiling warmth.

Once she gets into the rhythm of it, it’s… surprisingly easy. There’s something very lazy about sprawling in a hot bath, gently touching herself, lost in sensation, and Cassandra _luxuriates_ in it. She’s not particularly sure she could make herself come from this, and is fairly sure she doesn’t want to force that particular issue right now. So instead, with no goal in mind, she lets herself sink into the easy, pleasant sensation of it - allowing the coiling, steady heat in her belly and the shivering in her thighs to erase older, darker memories with bright warmth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was "Cassandra's first non-entirely-horrific attempt at masturbating post-Briarwoods? Slightly horrific is fine. But like. Happy ending preferred??". Slightly less sexy than the rest of these, but!! Still.


	11. Cocks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING for sibling incest.

“Do you like my brother’s cock, darling?” asks Vex, a wicked smile curling at her lips as she teases herself between the leather straps of the harness she’s wearing.

She’s wet already, slick enough that her fingers slide over her clit with barely enough friction to do anything more than _frustrate_. Instead, she lets them dip inside of her - just the tips, a little past the knuckle, curled and thrusting to temporarily sate the roaring ache in the pit of her stomach. She’s not even touched them yet, just watched, and she’s already dripping, shiny all down her thighs and over the harness of the strap-on.

It’s not her fault, though. Her two boys are so _beautiful,_ playing together, that she’s fairly sure they’d be able to tempt even the gods themselves into mischief.

Percy shudders, eyes half-lidded, the slow rolls of his hips down to meet Vax’s stuttering and pausing at the distraction. “Mm- very nice,” he manages, breathless and low in his chest, shifting a little where he’s straddling Vax’s waist. His thighs, lean and muscled as they are, are shaking with the effort of holding him up, half-sunk down on Vax’s cock. “Not as good- as _big_ \- as yours, dear, but still… _oh_ , he’s- so _warm_.”

Laughing, Vex slips fingers out of herself, reaching instead to stroke her slick down the length of the fake cock held firmly in place against her mons. “Size queen,” she teases, and feels so incredibly _pleased_ when the only response is a soft moan of agreement. “Don’t worry, you’ll be getting mine too, soon enough.”

Vax makes an indignant sort of noise, as best he can when distracted by the tight, wet heat around his cock, and the sight of his sister slowly fisting her own. “C’mon, Freddie,” he says, slapping Percy’s ass for good measure and savouring the way Percy’s hips jerk, the way the pale skin reddens in the shape of his hand. “As fun as it is to have you just _sitting_ on me, I was kinda hoping for a little more _action_.”

She lets them play a little while longer, filling the room with soft moans and sighs and the slick, wet noises and sweat-musk of sex, before clapping her hands together. “Alright, boys,” she says, as she crawls over to them and settles between Vax’s spread legs, behind Percy, her cock pressed slick and promising against the small of his back. “I think you’ve warmed him up _very_ nicely, brother, but I’d _hate_ to be left out of all the fun…”

“ _Please_ ,” moans Percy, bending forward a little until she can see the point where he’s joined so intimately with her brother, begging with his body as well as his words.

Vax grabs at Percy’s thighs, pinning him in place and digging crescent-moon nail marks into the pale skin there. “You _know_ I’d never leave you out of anything,” he says, and though his tone is deadly-serious, there’s a wicked twinkle in his eyes as he grins. “C’mon, sis. Give him what he wants, then.”

And, oh, Vex is _more_ than happy to oblige.

Percy _trembles_ at the first nudge of her cock against his entrance, already stretched pink-slick around Vax. They’d been thorough, opening him up earlier with fingers and tongues and plenty of lube, but two cocks is still a _lot_ \- especially since Percy, greedy as he is, had been rather _generous_ when making hers. It’s easily bigger than her brother’s, longer and thicker, and 

She goes slow, easing in half-inch by agonising half-inch as Percy gasps in hitching breaths and tries to relax himself as much as he can around them both. Vax _groans_ , an unexpectedly low, animal sound at the sudden _tightness_ , at the friction of the filthy slide of his sister’s cock against his - and, in that moment, Vex can’t think of a time she’s ever been more _pleased_ with herself, for coming up with such a wonderful idea.

By the time she’s fully seated in Percy, he’s slumped back against her, shuddering, chest heaving. She reaches around to drag nails up the slight softness of his stomach, tweak one rosy nipple, and he gasps out her name like a prayer. “ _Vex_ ,” he breathes, eyes wide and cloudy with lust, mouth half-open and close to drooling. “Oh, _oh_ , Vex- Vex-”

“Oh, _look_ at you, you _lucky_ boy. Does it hurt, darling?” she asks, pressing a kiss to his his hair. “Or are we good to go, hmm? I am _so_ looking forward to _ruining_ you.”

Percy struggles to form words for a long few seconds, mouth working silently, clenching around both of them - and Vex can’t help but wonder if they’ve already ruined him, broken him on the thickness of their cocks inside him to the point he can hardly speak. “Hurts, but- but-,” he manages, even as he grinds down, aching for _more_ despite all he’s already been given. He’s always been a slut for pain, almost more sensitive to it than pleasure, and Vex knows what he’s trying to say before he even finishes his stuttered sentence. “Vex, it’s- so _good_ , ah- oh, _gods_ \- _please_ -”

“Think we can make him come on just our cocks, sis?” asks Vax, grinning, rolling his hips up enough to make Percy _sob_ with the fullness and movement of it. He looks delighted, like the cat that got the cream, but Vex knows her brother well enough to know the telltale signs of strain, of painful arousal. He’s not going to last long, once they get going.

Vex hums, thoughtfully, and slides out slow and easy before pushing back in. Both of her boys cry out with it, shuddering with pleasure, and she laughs. “Brother, _please_. I think I can make _both_ of you come with just my cock.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was "I have a very real need for Vex and Vax double teaming Percy using the strap-on Percy made Vex because we all know he did. And it's not easy and it hurts a little but Percy love the stretch and the fullness and lbr here he loves the pain so much and he loves the twins even more and he's just so gone with it. And why is this not a thing already?". 
> 
> Pls let Percy get dicked down by both the twins, it's what he deserves.


	12. Fist

Scanlan’s hands are small, but that doesn’t make them _easy,_ by any means Vax gasps and groans his way through the fingers - one, two, three, _four_ , dripping with lube and pushing slow and steady inside him where he’s face-down ass-up on the carpet and _aching_ for more - but, when Scanlan’s thumb brushes the stretched-wide rim of his hole, he starts _panting._

He doesn’t stop, as Scanlan eases inside him, slowly, so _slowly_ , as his body opens up to accept the hand into him. By the time Scanlan’s wrist-deep and fully seated, fingers curled into a fist just barely nudging against his prostate, Vax is near _sobbing_ , gasping like he’s just run a marathon, cheek pressed flat against the ground and chest heaving with the _muchness_ of it all.

“Hey, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” asks Scanlan, cheerily, as if he isn’t forearm-deep in Vax and grinning, gently starting to fuck the half-elf on his fist with small, steady movements. His other hand snakes between Vax’s legs - doesn’t touch his cock, but plays with his balls, cupping them and tugging on them, pinching at the sensitive skin to see Vax flinch at the bite of sharp, manicured fingernails. There’s still marks, little circles of red-purple, from where Pike and her needles had their way with him last nights, and Scanlan targets those specifically to feel Vax clench _hard_ around him. “Look at you. You’re practically a pro already.”

The noise that escapes Vax’s chest is inhuman, a low, animal groan of mindless need and gratitude. Scanlan can’t see his face - but he can see his cock, painfully hard against the scarred skin of his stomach, the head purple-blood-hot and dripping precome, see the way Vax is beginning to rock back against him. He’s adjusting, the wide spread of his red, lube-slick hole no longer clenching quite so desperately around Scanlan’s wrist, panting softly as he tentatively fucks himself back onto the fist inside him with needy shoves of his hips.

“That’s it,” says Scanlan, with a toothy grin, pushing in a little further to hear Vax groan again, see the tension in his shoulders and the line of spine go liquid, melt away. Being fucked always has this effect on Vax, turns him soft and pliable and wanting, and it’s a pleasure to watch it every time - how he goes mindless, wanting, chasing easy pleasure with whatever they’re willing to give him. “C’mon, you can do better than that.” 

He watches Vax rock a little further back with another groan, take another half-inch of arm inside him, until the bulge of Scanan’s fist is just-visible through the flat muscle of his stomach. “Now, _that’s_ more like it,” he says, with the satisfied tone of an experienced connoisseur. “Very good. But you’re gonna have to take me a little deeper than that, kiddo, if you want to make sure you’re ready for Grog…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was "please consider, re how scanlan fucks vax: fisting".


	13. Devotion

“Look, I… I’m not doubting you on this, Vax,” says Keyleth, softly, staring at her boyfriend where he’s sprawled out on their bed. “Just… I’ve never heard of _anyone_ worshipping via- via carrying their deity’s _eggs._ Doesn’t this seem a little- _weird_ to you?”

Vax manages a strained laughing, huffing for breath where he’s pinned against the bed with the weight of his egg-swollen belly. “Yeah, nope, me neither,” he says, rubbing the taut swell of it, trying to ease the tightness of his skin and the ache underneath. The way they keep _moving_ in him is maddening, rolling and clacking against one another with every breath.

He’s not tried to walk yet. Isn’t sure if he _can_ walk, with the absurd weight and size of the clutch he’s carrying - or with the way that even a steady inhale-exhale makes him tremble from the shifting in his guts.

“She was, uh, pretty clear though. About this being a thing, a thing Her champions have gotta do.” He smiles, faintly, hands still on the swell of his belly where it’s bulging out from beneath the dark tunic-shirt he has on. “So, weird or not, I’ve got to do it, and- well, anyway, it’s a little late, so…” He pats his tummy, which looks like he’s swallowed several watermelons, or is several months overdue with twins - not an inapt description, really, though he’s sure there’s far more than two eggs in there.

It is, if he’s being honest, a little obscene. The size of it. The weight of it. The smooth bulge beneath his palms, the way the eggs _move_ inside him, the… the way they’re going to have to come out. Mostly, it’s obscene the way that turns him on, and he’s grateful Keyleth’s preoccupied by his belly because he’s rock-hard in some very tight leather pants that are doing nothing to hide the fact.

“It’ll be _fine_ , Kiki,” he says, soothingly, shifting his hands from his tummy to brace against the bed. “It’s only a week, She said. We can deal with this for a week, right? And then it’ll be done, and just another one of Vox Machina’s wild adventures - that time Vax ended up full of eggs. Scanlan might even write a song about it.”

Keyleth frowns, still unconvinced, though she looks a little less worried about _him_ now and a little more concerned with the logistics of it all. “Can you even walk?” she asks, doubtfully, as Vax heaves himself up into a sitting position with much huffing and puffing and groaning. 

“Well!” he says, as brightly as he can manage when he’s panting for breath, hardly able to straighten his spine from both the weight and the physical _bulk_ of the eggs inside him. He shuffles round, slowly, on the bed, until his legs are sticking out over the edge of the mattress to brush the floor. “Only one way to find out.”

Standing upright is- well. As he straightens, gravity takes its toll, and the eggs shift, rolling against one another as they settle, dragging his huge belly down towards the floor. He _groans_ , catches it in one hand, cradling the weight of it, and Keyleth starts towards him with concern - which, though sweet, is entirely misguided.

He’s fine, he really is, it’s just…. the weight of it, the movement, the change in position… the heavy swell of his egg-filled gut is now pressing down on the head of his throbbing cock, rubbing it between tight leather and skin in a small space slicked with his own precome. It feels _good,_ overwhelmingly so, enough that he’s half-convinced that the mere friction and movement of walking will be enough to make him come.

“Are you alright?” asks Keyleth, concern in her eyes, holding out a hand to support his elbow, and Vax can’t help but smile.

“Yeah, Kiki,” he manages, taking a step towards her, and another, trembling from the friction on his cockhead and the weight in his guts and from how fucking _into_ this he is for reasons he can’t explain, being swollen and full with his Goddess’s eggs. 

It’s blasphemy, probably, but he’s almost _certain_ he’s going to come just from walking the short corridor-distance to the food hall. He’s also kind of okay with that, though, filthy as it is, because he feels like he’s out of his fucking _mind_ with how aroused he is, and he’s desperately praying something happens to stop that before Keyleth or one of the others notice. 

Perhaps this, this _pleasure_ , was what She had meant when She had called the eggs a gift. If so, it’s a double-edged sword - but then, he supposes, most of Her gifts are.

“C’mon,” he says, managing a grin in the face of Keyleth’s doubt and his own throbbing, leaking cock, and trying not to think about how the rest of Vox Machina are going to react when they see what’s happened. “Let’s… let’s go to lunch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was "Not sure if you'd be into it but if so Vax carrying a clutch of eggs for the raven queen?". I'd apologise for all the OOC egg content but I'm not even remotely sorry :3c


	14. Pegging

Percy _trembles_ when he feels the tip of her fake cock press slide against the curve of his ass. Oh, she’s fingered him before many times, watched him finger himself, put smaller toys up there because she liked the way it made him move when he fucked her… but this? This is something different. This is his _wife_ , his beautiful wife, with a smooth phallus strapped against her mons, grinding against his ass and-

Vex touches the small of his back, and he exhales, and calms. He _loves_ that about her, perhaps more than anything; she is clever, and cunning, and beautiful, and funny, but he _adores_ her for the fact she can settle his mind with a single fingertip against his skin.

“Breathe, darling,” she says, gently, nudging the cock between his cheeks - and he whines, nods, head dropping forward to nearly press against the mattress. He has no doubt in his mind that, by the time they’re done here, he’ll have his cheek pressed against the sheets as he drools. Vex is, after all, spectacular in all else she does in bed - though, he admits, he may be biased - and he has no reason to suspect this particular act will be any different. “I’ll go slow, and we can stop at any time. You know that, don’t you?”

He breathes, and smiles. “Of course, dear,” he murmurs, shifting, hitching his hips up a little higher in her direction just in case she had any doubts. Her phallus slides against the slicked, sensitive skin around his hole, and he twitches, whines again. “I want this. I _do._ I want _you_ , and I want your- your _cock_ , and I-”

“Oh,” says Vex, delightedly, and the hand on his back shifts to one hip, bracing as she moves behind him, adjusts, realigns. “Oh, please _do_ keep talking, darling, you know how I _love_ that silver tongue of yours.” She pauses, nudging the head of the phallus against his hole, and giggles when his words of praise stutter. “…And I _also_ love it when I manage to do _that_.”

Percy draws in a deep breath, shudders, consciously relaxes - easier said than done with a cock against his ass. “I want you inside me, Vex’ahlia, dear, darling, _mistress_ , you’re so good to me, I want to be good for you, I want to-”

Vex takes advantage of his moment of distraction to slip the head of the toy inside him and, as predicted, Percy falls silent. Or, not silent, exactly; his words dissolve into stuttering, a protracted moan, heavy panting as he tries to adjust to the sudden girth and weight inside him, shifting and flexing and trembling against the mattress.

“Oh,” he tries, hesitantly, unsteadily, when words return to him. “Oh that’s- that’s nice, that’s, that’s a _lot_ , oh, ohhh, ah, please, I’d like- please could you give me, please, I want-” He tries his best, incoherent, distracted by the fat stretch of her inside him as she slides slowly, incrementally deeper. “I want you inside me, all the way in, _Vex’ahlia, please_ -”

When she bottoms out, though, it’s all over. She doesn’t get another coherent word out of him all evening - even when she pulls out and flips him over and sits herself on his face to take her own pleasure after attending to his needs for so long - and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was "Vex pegging Percy for the first time?".


	15. Training

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING for non-explicit sibling incest.

It’s usually Vax.

In fairness, that statement applies to a lot of things - the one that runs head-first into danger, that puts their life several steps below the others in the group, that flirts at the most inopportune of moments, that makes the stupidest choices - but right now, it applies to this; to Vax face down and ass up in the sand of the training room floor, biting his own forearm to keep from crying out.

He takes it well, to his own credit, all the way from Scanlan through Percy and Keyleth up to Grog, the goliath’s cock almost as thick around as his wrist. He loves his girlfriend’s cock the best, the familiarity of it, the way she bites his shoulder when she loses herself in a moment of unselfconscious orgasm - but there’s benefits to all of them, little things that makes him fall in love with them a little more each time they slide home inside of him and his body opens up to welcome them. Scanlan’s attentiveness to detail, Percy’s bruising grip, Grog’s sheer _girth_ as it splits him open wider than he thought possible… he doesn’t know how he ever lived without it, without each and every one of them taking him to pieces until his world turns into a fucked-out blur.

He loves Pike, too, the filthiness of her despite the sweetness of her holy light - the way she crawls under him, when it comes to Grog’s turn, positions herself so every rock of the goliath’s hip drives Vax’s cock into where she’s wet and waiting. There’s _something_ about it, about being used so easily and casually, that drives him wild. Wilder still, when she reaches behind him, curls fingers around the base of his cock and _squeezes_ as she comes, keeps him teetering painfully on the edge of his own release and sobbing with frustration and to pounding blood-rush of adrenaline.

But best of all, though he’d never admit it, he loves it when they’re done - when he’s a wreck, sobbing, hole stretched wide and pink and dripping come down his balls, cock curved still-hard against his stomach - and his sister comes to him, and smiles. When Vex’ahlia, with her dark eyes and clever fingers and the _wicked_ curl of her lips, flips him over onto his back and rides him, hard and fast and _desperate_ , until the wet slap of the point where their bodies meet is lost in the cries of their mutual orgasm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was "headcannon: combat training in vox machina often ends with someone getting fucked".
> 
> Is Keyleth trans? Does she just polymorph herself a dick on the regular to fuck her boyfriend? Who knows! You decide.


	16. Want

“Are you sure you want this, darling?” asks Vex, softly. Her hands are warm on Keyleth’s hips, sure, archer’s callouses rough against the smooth of her skin. “It’s alright if you’ve changed your mind.”

Keyleth breathes in, breathes out. Closes her eyes. Tangles her hands in Vex’s hair and feels the silk of it, the weight, the way it slides through her fingers. “I’m sure,” she answers, and there’s no hesitation there. Every part of her thrills to this. Every part of her is sure, response to Vex’s call, her touch, her warmth and weight and _smell_. “Gods, Vex, I’m sure, _please_ -”

It’s the pleading that does it. She knows Vex well; hopes to one day know her better than she knows the lines of her own body. But she already knows how well an appeal to Vex’s haughtier tendencies works.

The first touch of hot, wet tongue against her cunt makes her tremble, a deep, slow shudder that works its way up from her toes to the tightening of her scalp. She’s wet already, shiny on her thighs from the hour she and Vex have spent kissing, petting, grinding together and panting into each other’s mouths. Vex is gentle, persistent, _firm_ in a way that makes Keyleth fight to keep from clamping legs around her head as she licks her way into Keyleth, draws back to kiss her clit.

“Oh,” breathes Keyleth, whimpers, “oh, _oh_ ,” as Vex lavishes her with attention, with kisses, with sweeps of her talented, hungry tongue. It’s heat like she’s never known, a prickle of _everythingness_ that brings her skin out in goosebumps and makes her shake. She has to fight not to grab, where her hands are wound in Vex’s hair, to cling and tug and never let go for fear of losing this bright, animal _aliveness_ that ripples over her skin like water or love or the first wave of spring.

When she comes, it feels like finding home in another person’s body, in a way she’s not sure she’ll ever recover from. In a way she’s not sure she wants to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was "if you're still taking prompts, i am dyyyying for some vex/keyleth smut. maybe keyleth letting vex tie her up for the first time?". And then I kind of wrote first time in general instead. Whoops.


	17. Pollen

“Shit,” says Beau, looking down at the pollen all over her, down the front of her blue robes, on her hands, in her hair - the pollen Caleb very insistently told them to avoid at all costs, for reasons that made him flush faint pink and made Jester giggle for a solid half-hour. “Shit, fuck, _shit_ -”

When she looks up, she realises the pollen is all over Yasha, too.

Yasha’s pupils are already dilated, chest heaving, and there’s a terrifying sort of one-track focus in the way she’s staring at Beau - predator to prey, almost, hunter to pursued. It’s _really_ not helping with Beau’s own quickening breath, the cloying, muzzy heat that’s percolating through her brain and making her eyeballs ache, with the- oh, yeah, yep, Caleb was _completely_ right about _exactly_ what this pollen does, because there’s an intimately familiar ache building between legs and in the pit of her stomach, snaking up her spine and down her thighs to leave her _trembling_.

“Beauregard,” says Yasha, quietly, the softness of her voice belying the intensity beneath it. She’s not raging, is in fact perfectly still, but Beau feel the pressure and weight of the storm around her nonetheless, taste the ozone on her tongue. “What you said earlier- about tonight- are you still…? Here…?”

“Yeah.” Beau’s shocked by how ragged her own voice sounds, how hard the pollen’s hit her already, hands clenched into trembling fists and stomach coiled into knots and thighs pressed together to try and ease the slick throbbing between them. “Yeah, _yeah, fuck_ -”

That’s as far as she gets before Yasha slams into her, and they’re on the ground, and she’s on top, and then Yasha’s on top, and they’re kissing hard enough to bruise-

Beau tastes blood in her mouth from a tooth against her lip about the same time Yasha’s hand finds its way into her trousers. Her own hands manage to ruck up Yasha’s shirt and breastband about the same time Yasha discovers she’s not wearing smallclothes, growls approvingly. They’re still kissing, both of them, free hands wound into each other’s hair, grabbing, dragging, pulling close as they pant into each other’s mouths.

It’s animal, frantic, desperate - both of them _starving_ , strong enough to bruise and crazy enough to _want_ that - but there’s a deliberateness, a gentleness, to the movements between the frenzy. Beau pulls away from Yasha, gasping, palming her breasts with a soft, careful reverence before latching onto one nipple; Yasha’s thick fingers stroke pet the curls of hair over her mons, stroke across the soft-wet velvet of her labia before pushing inside. There’s a worship to their hunger, a half-hesitance to every bruise they leave to make sure it’s wanted, an awe at the feel of their partner’s body beneath roaming hands.

And then Yasha has a thumb on her clit, and she’s got a thigh jammed up between Yasha’s legs for the barbarian to grind on, and- all conscious thought and action disappears for a while, subsumed beneath a tidal wave of animal-instinct _need_ and _heat_ and _oh god, yes, there, yes, yes,_ yes-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was "Beau and Yasha get hit by sex pollen, right after they have both (with a clear mind) consented to having sex with each other, but just before they've gotten undressed".


	18. Susurrus

The wind whispers through the trees as Caduceus kneels before his altar. It’s a simple thing, a haphazard cairn of uneven stones, but it’s the best he can manage when they’re on the road. He knows She won’t mind, though – nature, at its heart, is wild and haphazard, and She finds beauty in the simple and unpredictable. So he, too, will find beauty in the strangeness of his impromptu worship.

He’s not sure how long he sits before the altar, amongst his quiet sounds of the breeze amongst branches and leaves. It could be minutes, could be an hour. He’s long since fallen out of the habit of tracking time during his meditations, preferring instead to slip fully into peaceful contemplation of Her works.

The presence of dim, fading light still filtering through the trees overhead tells him he will not be missed for a while longer, though. As long as he is back before nightfall, the others will not worry, or come looking for him. He has a few minutes longer to his solitude and worship.

Which is why, when he opens his eyes to find himself hard in the confines of his pants, he does not immediately stand up. This is another part to his worship, sometimes, as She sees fit, an offering to Her of his baser instincts from the animal within. It is not something he offers often, but when She calls him to, who is he to resist?

Instead, he pulls himself from his trousers, blood-hot and hard, exhaling softly at the curl of one furred palm around his length. The unsteady hush of his breathing mingles with the breeze, and he feels… at peace. At one with the world around him. He rubs a thumb over the head of his cock, feels the sticky fluid beading there, and smiles.

“ _Wildmother_ ,” he murmurs, eyes closed, head tilted back. He strokes himself slow and steady, unhurried, rutting lazily into his own fist. An animal he may be at heart, but in heat he is not – he will take his time with this, with his worship. She gives him his pleasure to be enjoyed, not hurried.

By the time he opens his eyes again, the sun is nearly gone, and he _aches_ with his need, balls tight and heavy with the weight of his offering. His breath stutters in his chest, and he sobs out Her name once more, and comes in a thick, white stripe over Her altar. The pleasure washes through him, as his cock pulses against his fingers, and he calls for Her over and over as he empties himself for Her, amongst the whispering of the trees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was "susurrus", because the friend I was playing prompt games with likes to make things hard for me.


	19. Chapter 19

“ _Was_?” asked Caleb, oh-so-softly and all the more mischievous for it. Like this, the slightest twist of his wrist tightened his grip on Essek’s hair, tugging harder at the silvery strands of it. “You know, _Herr_ Essek, I do not want to do anything without your permission. And, since I do not speak Undercommon…”

The noise that the motion pulled from Essek was barely human, a low groan of delight as his heels skidded against the silk of his sheets. It had taken him a long time to admit this particular perversion of his to the human – _too_ long, clearly – but now that he had shared his secret… In truth be told, it was difficult to form words, to _think_ , with the deep and steady tugging of Caleb’s fingers in his hair, tilting his head back, baring his neck.

“That does not sound like words,” said Caleb, smiling.

The bastard was _teasing_ him, clearly. It was unbearable, would be have been intolerable in any other circumstance. But, like this, with Essek’s chest heaving and his cock leaking against his own stomach, hips arched up desperately towards Caleb’s touch, he hardly had the breath for a reprimand.

“… _Touch_ me, damn you,” he managed, finally, amidst a strangled string of curses in Undercommon. Caleb’s fingers twitched, and Essek’s hips twitched with them, played like a puppet at the hand of the enemy – and Luxon, wasn’t _that_ an image, blasphemous and all the more exciting for it.

Something for another time, perhaps.

“Ah,” said Caleb, his smile curling into a crooked smirk, and Essek could hardly believe he had ever thought the wizard shy, or naive. There was a wickedness, there, behind those blue eyes and the curl of those soft, chapped lips, hidden behind the barest façade of reticence. “ _There_. Now I understand you.”

That was a lie. Caleb understood more of him than Essek was comfortable admitting – more than Caleb himself knew, perhaps. But, as Caleb flexed his wrist once more, forced Essek’s head back another inch, curled one human-hot palm around the aching length of his cock, that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the pulled-taut arch of his spine, and the glorious calluses of Caleb’s palm, and the sharp, _brilliant_ tug of clever fingers twisted into his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was "twist". Written for a friend during 15min prompt games.


	20. Quickie

“Oh,” manages Jester, as Beau drops to her knees, rucks Jester’s skirts up and ducks beneath them. “ _Oh_ , Beau– it’s, Caleb, he’s not going to be long–”

“Do _not_ ,” says Beau, firmly, her hands running up Jester’s legs from ankle to calf to thigh, “mention Caleb right now. Gods. _Please_.” Her hands stroke at the soft skin of Jester’s thighs, moving by sense-memory alone given how dark it is under the petticoats. “You’ll ruin the mood.”

Jester inhales, sharply, toes curling inside her boots at the drag of calluses on sensitive skin. so close to where she _wants_ them. “We’re going to get _caught_ ,” she hisses, though her head’s tossed back against the alleyway’s brickwork, and she’s not saying _no_.

“Blah, blah.” Beau’s voice is muffled through layers of fabric, and the only part of her Jester can see is feet poking out from under her poofy skirt. “We’ll be quick. You doubting my skills?”

She presses a kiss to the line between Jester’s thigh and her vulva, and _no_ , Jester most certainly _isn’t_. “…Okay!” she squeaks, which is honestly an impressively steady sort of tone given the fact Beau’s tugging her underwear to one side, stroking gently over the soft curls of hair between her legs. “Okay, but _quickly_ , because it will be _super awkward_ if–”

“No mentioning Caleb!” says Beau, lightly slapping Jester’s thigh – and then that’s all she says, for a while, because Jester’s already wet enough to have soaked through her panties, and Beau can _smell_ her in the close space beneath her skirts, and her mouth is fucking _watering_. Her tongue finds Jester’s clit with an accuracy born of recent familiarity, and she slips two fingers up into Jester’s cunt the way she knows Jester likes, and then she’s very thoroughly occupied with the task at hand.

It’s quick as Beau promised. No long warm-up, no teasing, just a hot wet mouth on Jester’s cunt and two fingers inside her, crooked against her g-spot, and within seconds Jester’s pressing a hand over her mouth to keep quiet. The mouth of the alley is only a few feet away, she can’t squeal, she _can’t scream_ –

By the time Caleb finishes in the bookshop, emerges with his purchases under one arm, both Jester and Beau are back to loitering by the entrance. It’s as if nothing happened. And, if Jester’s cheeks are flushed a little more purple than usual, and Beau can’t stop licking her lips, then… well. Caleb’s lack of social perception has never been more of a blessing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was "scramble". Written in 15mins whilst playing smutty prompt games with a friend.


End file.
